Can't turn back now
by aypapii
Summary: Kramer feels like a dirty old man when he's around the boy.


Kramer doesn't remember feeling this old.

Maybe it's because the boy is possibly ten years younger than him (probably more but Kramer doesn't want to think about that) or maybe it's because the past few days, weeks, months, have been building up. Though he's pretty certain that the latter is less important than the former. He remembers hearing stories of dirty old men that would prey on young boys and do dirty things to them and Kramer feels like a dirty old man.

But can't he just blame the kid? The way he saunters around as if this whole ordeal doesn't faze him while he's terrified?

Kramer can't blame him though, the kid can't be younger than fifteen – he flinches at the idea – and it must be a whole lot to deal with, trying to avoid behind hurt, or used or worse, killed. Kramer can't help but feel that the kid has guts, it's almost inspiring and laughable. He remembers the first night, when they'd raided, if you could call it that, the Sanders house. He remembered how upset the boy had gotten over his dog and he remembers something had changed then. Kramer isn't sure what it is that's changed but he sure as hell knows that there's no going back now.

Whether he's thinking about their current situation or the kid, Kramer doesn't know.

Instead, he tries to ignore the kid, ignore the way he walks, his posture, the way he twirls a pencil around in his fingers while doing homework, the intonations of his words, the clarity of his voice. And now, Kramer finds himself thinking about the boy even more, the boy who he has much more life experience than and Kramer feels like a dirty old man.

So he kisses Sandrine after having one too many scotches, he doesn't feel like a dirty old man kissing her but she isn't soft. She isn't soft the way Jake would be, with his smooth skin and soft pink lips. She's rough, with skin aged way beyond her years, and red lips that can bite and bruise. They're not innocent; Jake's innocent.

Though, Kramer thinks, that statement isn't all true, sure maybe in the physical sense, Jake's innocent, as pure as virgin that would be sacrificed to the gods for good crops, or rain, or sun, maybe. And simply thinking about the boy's virginity has Kramer, a scotch in hand that he miraculously got past Duncan, retreating to the bathroom where he drinks and scrubs his hands until they are clean. Then he scrubs some more until blood speckles his skin and he's satisfied that he's clean.

But Kramer knows he isn't; he's drinking, he's constantly loaded with stress and worry and now, he has to deal with less than honest feelings for a boy whose family he's holding hostage. The idea is almost laughable, and he does indeed laugh, while going to confession where he proceeds to break down and beg the priest speaking with him, 'why can't I like women? Why can't I like women?' until he's sobbing and his throat is dry and _fuck_, Brian Sanders liquor cabinet has never looked more appealing in his life.

Except when he stumbles in through the front door to the Sanders residence and into the kitchen, where he is fully intent on downing half a bottle of scotch - fuck the ice and cup, he thinks – but that god damned kid is sitting at the table, looking as down and very much like a kicked puppy. God, it only makes Kramer hate himself more. But he says nothing to Jake, can't find it in him to speak in case anything dirty leaves his mouth. How would the kid react? In disgust? But what if he felt the same way? Only less dirty.

The idea itself makes Kramer grin stupidly and he's only had... was it five? six scotches? He lost count. He shakily pours himself another, as if he needs to apply etiquette now that the object of his, although dirty, affection is in the same room as him. He swivels the gold liquid around before swallowing it whole and pouring himself another. Kramer finally finds it within himself to look at Jake, the bruises from a few weeks ago still linger and it makes Kramer's heart pound with rage. He wants to go back to that... who was it? Nick? He can't remember but all he knows is he wants to go back and hit him again. And again and again until maybe he doesn't have a pulse.

But that's impulsive. And reckless and _God dammit Kramer, you have a job to do. _

Jake looks up at him, as though hearing his thoughts, wet his lips and speaks.

"Didn't take you for a drinker." he smoothly says.

Kramer grins. "Didn't take you for one to be up so late."

And maybe it's an invitation to go to bed together, maybe Kramer thinks about fucking the boy until he's hoarse and can't move. Duncan would like that, the fact that Kramer had done two good things since this dilemma. (Though maybe he'd have to arrest him for statutory rape.)

But then again, Kramer thinks, who would have to know?

The thought makes Kramer smile and he thinks that maybe he isn't a dirty old man like he thought he was.

But there's a 90% chance that's just the alcohol talking.


End file.
